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More poems by Jean ToomerJean Toomer | Print this page.Print | Order a PoetryNotes Analysis of this poem.Analysis | View and Write CommentsComments

Cotton Song

Jean Toomer

Come, brother, come. Lets lift it;
come now, hewit! roll away!
Shackles fall upon the Judgment Day
But lets not wait for it. 

God's body's got a soul,
Bodies like to roll the soul,
Cant blame God if we dont roll,
Come, brother, roll, roll!

Cotton bales are the fleecy way,
Weary sinner's bare feet trod,
Softly, softly to the throne of God,
"We aint agwine t wait until th Judgment Day!

Nassur; nassur,
Hump.
Eoho, eoho, roll away!
We aint agwine to wait until th Judgment Day!"

God's body's got a soul,
Bodies like to roll the soul,
Cant blame God if we dont roll,
Come, brother, roll, roll!


Submitted by Stephen Fryer

Added: 19 Aug 2002 | Last Read: 20 Nov 2008 6:00 PM | Viewed: 3568 times

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URL: http://plagiarist.com/poetry/6667/ | Viewed on 20 November 2008.
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